


Draw The Line

by dovingbird



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Familial Abuse, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5510624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The initial offer for Adam to spend Christmas with James and Elyse so he could avoid his awful family was lovely, but honestly, when was the last time Adam didn't completely fuck something like that up? It's easy to turn down the offer, easy to feel like a burden on them, easy to make sure he doesn't ruin their perfect married Christmas together.</p>
<p>Not so easy to turn down one Matt Peake, who's going to be just as alone for Christmas as he is. Not even when his family starts getting in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draw The Line

_"Do you wanna spend Christmas with me?"_  
  
 _"I might."_  
  
The words fell out of Adam's mouth on the highs of confessing secrets that he'd kept locked away for too long, of James's warm hand pressing into his shoulder, of another passive-aggressive text message from his mother only eight minutes before he'd dropped into his chair to start filming Dude Soup that day. It takes a little over a week for Adam to regret them.  
  
The regret sets in abruptly, as it typically does. Rather than living his life in gradual shifts and changes of tone and color, Adam's more familiar with sudden jolts, like his feet are frozen in ice one moment and melted through to sink him into the lake the next. He's finishing his water bottle when claws sink into his heart, jagged and deep and meeting in the middle, and he squeezes the plastic until it gives under his fingers. The water shoots down his throat so fast that he chokes on it.  
  
No, he...he can't impose. He can't presume. He can't fucking ruin another holiday just because someone feels bad for him or is trying to protect him. And he sure as hell can't rain on James and Elyse's parade.  
  
He knows himself, he thinks as he gets his coughing fit under control, as he gets up to go toss the bottle away. He knows he'll take whatever drinks they press into his hands - which will be _many_ , especially given how much Elyse loves mixing them - and he'll get fuzzy-headed and flushed and then it'll happen again, all the words pouring out, probably right when Elyse and James are passing each other presents from under the tree. He'll ruin everything.  
  
It doesn't matter how long they've been friends. It's not something he's going to risk.  
  
~~  
  
Adam waits until everyone's leaving for the day, until the only ones left in the room are James and Elyse and Peake. Elyse and Matt are chatting near Matt's desk while James finishes packing his things, and Adam leans gently against James's table. "Hey, so, uh," he says softly, glancing up across the room, gratified when Elyse and Matt don't stop talking or soften their volume. "About the...the Christmas thing?"  
  
James's hands immediately slow, and he stands tall from where he was leaning to look Adam in the eyes. "Yeah?"  
  
"You know I was kidding about that, right? Coming to spend it with you and Elyse?"  
  
James is remarkably good at keeping emotions from crossing his face when he's in front of an audience, but he's not acting here. He stopped being warmed up a good hour ago, when the last camera went off. He immediately wrinkles his brow, mouth opening and closing twice before he manages words. "And you know it was a really serious offer, right? That I wasn't kidding around?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but..." Adam can't keep looking into James's too-sincere eyes, breaks away to look at his shoes and how they scuff the floor.  
  
"Elyse and I would love to have you. You can ask her yourself if you wa-"  
  
"No." He says it firmer than he intended, and Elyse and Matt quiet for a moment. "No, that's. That's okay. I just think I'm gonna spend some time alone. Maybe see my family just for like...like a _day_ or something instead of the whole weekend. It's cool."  
  
Silence. Low murmurs start across the room again.  
  
Adam doesn't realize how hard he's gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles start burning. "I just think it might do me some good to be alone for a little bit, I don't know. Get my head on straight."  
  
James is quiet for a few seconds, just long enough to make Adam's heart start pounding anxiously, before he reaches over and rubs his back. "Yeah, bud, whatever you want." He pauses. "Do me a favor, though? You change your mind, you call us?"  
  
"Of course." The words come out fast enough that Adam knows they're a lie before he even finishes speaking.  
  
"Okay." James squeezes his shoulder for just a moment before he turns back to his bag. "Ready to head out? We can all get dinner, maybe, us, Elyse, and Peake?"  
  
"Nah, I'm good. Big lunch and all that. See you tomorrow, though?"  
  
"Absolutely." James smacks him on the back before he starts heading away. "See you tomorrow, dear baby boy."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, fuck you," Adam shouts back with a little chuckle. He turns before he can see them leave, staring at his monitor. Takes a deep breath...  
  
There. Taken care of. He squeezes his hands rhythmically around the back of his chair for a few moments, just letting his breathing settle out again.  
  
He doesn't expect the footsteps behind him, and he whips his head around, eyes wide, to see Peake staring at him. "Fuck."  
  
"Sorry." Matt holds up both hands, flat, all _I come in peace._ "Thought you...heard me still here."  
  
"It's okay, I just..." He breathes a laugh and rubs the back of his neck, grinning down at the floor. "You surprised me."  
  
"Sorry." Matt drops his hands and shoves them into his hoodie pocket, watching him carefully. "Just. You know. I heard some of what you were talking about."  
  
Oh, excellent. Matt's a good friend - always has been - but the last thing Adam wants right now is pity. He's past that point. "Okay?"  
  
Matt watches him carefully. Matt's always been particularly direct in his gaze with other human beings. It only breaks when he's feeling sheepish. And right here, right now? He's clearly the farthest thing from it. "I wanted to ask if you'd spend Christmas with me."  
  
Another bleeding heart, another person who thinks that Adam can't take care of himself. Adam forces a chuckle, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, doesn't stretch the muscles in his cheek quite right. "Matt, man, I appreciate it, I really do, but I really...I don't need a babysitter for Christmas, you know that, right?"  
  
Matt blinks a few times. "I'm aware."  
  
"Okay. Then you know I'm fine being alone during Christmas."  
  
"I mean..." Matt rubs the back of his neck, the corner of his lips quirking. "...I obviously wasn't asking for your benefit."  
  
Adam stares at him. "...oh?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean, I'm...I'm kind of spending Christmas by myself, and it's gonna be pretty quiet. I'll get lonely."  
  
"Lonely," Adam repeats dryly.  
  
Matt nods, eyes wide and innocent, mouth in a straight line. "Yep."  
  
That's...okay, that's different. Somehow it didn't occur to him that he might not be the only person without anyone to spend Christmas with. Everyone else in the office had a sea of significant others and family and friends, and then Matt here... "I mean, what about Bruce?" They'd been living together for a few months now. "He'll be home, right?"  
  
Matt shrugs. "He's gonna go see his family."  
  
"And your family is...?" He feels like he's rudely interrogating him, but...but he has to know. He won't stand for it being a brief moment of charity.  
  
"They're...traveling."  
  
"Traveling."  
  
"Yeah. Spending Christmas with really distant relatives."  
  
"Relatives where?"  
  
He doesn't bat a lash. "London."  
  
"You have family in London?"  
  
" _Distant_ family."  
  
Adam stares at him, wrinkling his brow. "You're bullshitting me right now."  
  
"Adam." Matt looks completely neutral still, but he touches a hand to his chest through his layers of hoodies as if affronted. "When have I ever bullshitted you?"  
  
There's a million and one ways to respond to that, especially after college together, but...Matt is clearly trying. And he's giving Adam a million and one outs, but the fact is that if Matt's spending Christmas alone too, there's really no reason for them to _both_ be alone, right?  
  
So Adam takes a deep breath and drops his eyes, staring at the floor as he replies. "Well, Matt, it'd be just damn rude of me if I made you spend Christmas alone, wouldn't it?"  
  
"I'd say so."  
  
"Then I'll maybe stop by Christmas Eve. Maybe."  
  
"Well, that's just charitable of you, I'd say," Matt says. "Just helping out a good friend."  
  
"Yep." Adam immediately walks side-by-side with Matt as he starts heading toward the door. "Just, y'know, wanna look out for you, Peake."  
  
"You're very kind."  
  
"Yes I am."  
  
~~  
  
Adam's phone vibrates in his pocket again as he works through a bowl of ramen, and this time he doesn't even look before he silences the buzzing.  
  
He knows what it's going to be. It's probably an aunt this time, the next in a long spree of family bouncing down the path to smear Adam in shame for neglecting his mother on Christmas.  
  
She'll miss you.  
  
She won't be around forever.  
  
Hasn't she suffered enough without an ungrateful son?  
  
It's a harsh reminder that Adam is nothing but a trinket to display on the edges of the family nativity scene. He's the son, the younger one, and while his older brother stands behind his mother's chair with a hand firmly on her shoulder and a wide grin, Adam will be the one skulking near the edge, shoulders hunched, lips barely quirked, eyes focused just to the side of the camera, just enough to ruin the shot.  
  
He remembers Thanksgiving. He remembers it too well. And as far as he's concerned, he can go see the whole family and catch passive-aggressive comments to the face like a slap about his career and how he doesn't call enough and how his brother is achieving far more than he ever will...or he can stay at home and ignore all the same as they come through text messages.  
  
If he's going to be a disappointment, he might as well feel it as a dull ache, not a freshly sharpened knife through the ribs every time he's just barely finished patching himself up.  
  
He slurps up the broth, eyes on the rerun of some soap opera that he stopped focusing on when the show changed forty-five minutes ago and the remote was too far away to grab. And as his phone vibrates with yet another voicemail, he clicks it until it's silent.  
  
~~  
  
The day before Christmas Eve is tolerable. He bustles around the apartment. He has enough energy to wash about half of his sink of dishes even though it means he won't have the energy for a shower later. He fields texts from James and Elyse, who are baking what looks like a particularly decadent chocolate cake that's dripping with fudge, complete with selfies full of thumbs ups and wide grins and one blurry horrifying shot where the cake almost fell off the decorating stand before it was followed with a last picture of it being okay, just missing a very tiny chunk that James was now indulging in.  
  
There's room for him, they remind him. They can't eat the whole damn thing by themselves.  
  
Adam is smiling fondly where he rests on the couch, the dishes drying in the rack, studying the ceiling. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he and Peake could both go over, could spend the evening laughing it up with them. He hasn't laughed enough recently. It feels like he's yielding to the darkness by not laughing and smiling, not mocking it with the happiness he is fully capable of sustaining.  
  
His phone vibrates, and he opens it on instinct, anticipating another selfie from the Willems duo.  
  
What he gets is a text message from his mother informing him that he's right on the road to being just like his father.  
  
He...he can't remember how to breathe. He stares at the words, feels them twist in his head, hears shouting wrench through his mind, can practically feel the bruising fingers around his arm and his throat and hear the crack of his glasses right down the middle.  
  
He doesn't get off the couch for the rest of the night.  
  
~~  
  
Adam is a wreck from the moment that he opens his eyes on Christmas Eve. His throat is sore, but when he brushes his fingers over his face in a mild panic there's no wetness there, no sign that he gave into the urge to cry while he was asleep.  
  
He's almost thankful he couldn't make himself come to his feet last night, if only because he knows he would be absolutely fucking hungover this morning if he could have. He manages to heave himself to his feet, to wander down the hallway and take a much needed piss, and then he takes a long look at himself in the mirror while he's washing his hands.  
  
His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is pointing every which way. His lips are chapped. He's been wearing the same shirt for three days now. He looks like complete shit.  
  
He floats through the apartment the entire day like a ghost, muscles heavy, body too thick to move gracefully. He doesn't turn on the TV, too conscious of the Christmas specials running on each channel. He turns off his phone in a moment of panicked self-protection.  
  
The sun has set when he goes for a bottle of whiskey, when he pours a tall glass of it, straight up, and he holds it to his lips when he catches sight of the time. Freezes.  
  
He can practically see Peake's eyes staring back at him.  
  
The glass clinks too loudly on the counter when he puts it back down and presses his hands into the counter, arching his shoulders, dropping his head, closing his eyes with a sigh.  
  
He deserves to be alone. He knows it. He deserves to mope around in his own fucking shithole that he dug, and that's _all_ he deserves. But he's selfish tonight. He's selfish because it's Christmas Eve and it's not fair for anyone to be alone, even when they don't deserve anything but a cold numb night remembering everything they've ever done wrong and how they don't have a fucking future.  
  
He pours the whiskey silently back into the bottle, grabs his phone, and gets in the car.  
  
He's antsy the entire drive, twitching in his seat, left leg bouncing uselessly, knuckles white around the steering wheel. The roads are clear enough, everyone already home and with their families, and it takes no time at all before he's pulling into Bruce and Matt's apartment complex, parking in front of it, seeing the steadfast light on in their living room.  
  
Adam skulks upstairs. He knocks on the door. And when Matt answers it in a gray sweater and a pair of jeans, Adam is blurting out "I don't have a present" before the door's even fully open.  
  
Matt blinks at him. "I don't have room for more shit anyway." He steps back. "C'min."  
  
It's not the first time that he's been to Bruce's apartment, though it's the first time since Matt moved in after Lawrence moved out several months before. It hasn't changed. Bruce has mentioned before how Matt kept so easily to his bedroom, how he frequently forgot to leave it when he wasn't jogging or cooking, and it makes an odd sort of sense. Adam finds it almost impossible to imagine Matt without his headphones on, stuffed in a hoodie, eyes scanning rapidly over a screen.  
  
"Can I get you something to drink?" Matt's asking as he locks the door. "Coke? Water?"  
  
"Alcohol?" Adam asks, because he took the giant step of not being alone tonight but that sure as hell doesn't mean he's not still feeling shaky. He sinks down onto the couch, hunching in on himself, and Matt's lips quirk in a smile as he saunters to the kitchen.  
  
They take up their separate space in silence for a bit, Matt clinking things together as he collects a couple of beers, Adam staring at the wall and ignoring the fact that his phone is still somewhere in his apartment, abandoned. He still has the twitching instinct to check it every few seconds. It's not until a bottle is in front of his face, dangling loosely from two of Matt's fingers, that Adam comes back to the present.  
  
"Fuck, I, uh," Adam manages, articulate as always, as he takes the bottle and watches Matt drop with a quiet satisfied sigh onto the cushion at the other end of the couch. "Merry Christmas, dude. Sorry to drop in on you with no warning."  
  
Matt shrugs, holding his bottle toward Adam, and Adam stares for a moment before he realizes what it means, before he clinks the lips of the bottles together in a toast. "It's okay. I was expecting it. Merry Christmas to you too."  
  
They both drink, Adam's eyes on Matt's face, Matt staring at the Christmas tree in the corner. "Boring day?"  
  
"I mean." Matt smiles again. "It's weird, isn't it? Not working."  
  
Adam actually thinks it's pretty fantastic, being able to exist as a vegetable for a few days, but he and Matt aren't exactly the same type of person. "I guess?"  
  
"I dunno. I just feel at odd ends, I guess. Didn't get everything done that I wanted to. I'd probably be up there working if I hadn't been expecting you."  
  
That's a small thing, at least. Adam may be a waste of space, but he's keeping Matt from working too hard. "I mean, if any of us deserve to relax, I'm pretty sure it's you."  
  
Matt purses his lips, eyes narrowing just a touch in thought. "I don't know if I remember how to relax anymore."  
  
"We can work on that. What do you have, video games? Movies?"  
  
"All of the above."  
  
Adam shrugs. "Then we can do some mind-numbing shit and forget about work for a while."  
  
"Forget about everything," Matt adds, and he meets Adam's eyes directly, holds them even as Adam's tongue gets tied.  
  
Adam opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "Yeah, right, of course."  
  
They stare. And not for the first time, Adam has that bizarre feeling that Matt has the ability to read his soul. He can practically feel Matt's eyes in his head, in his heart, flipping through pages like an open book, and Adam slouches again, feeling just a little too exposed. "You hungry?" Matt finally asks. "I thought about ordering Chinese but I didn't know when you'd be here."  
  
"Fuck, I-I'm sorry, I just. I got caught up at home." Adam feels a pang of regret, a reminder of how much of a burden he is, and he runs a hand through his head, taking a long drink of his beer. "I don't even know where the day went."  
  
"Had your mind somewhere else?"  
  
He feels a wavering shield on his thoughts, unsure if it wants to drop and spill everything out to the quiet and warm guy next to him that's known him longer than any of his coworkers or if it wants to rise higher and lock itself into place. He settles on a bite to his tone. "That why you invited me over, Peake? To get nosy?"  
  
"Will you get mad if I say yes?"  
  
Adam stares very hard at the wall. "I just think you know how to mind your own business."  
  
He can feel Matt looking at him. Matt takes a long drink of his own, swallows audibly, and then speaks again. "I think everyone else is too scared to push you to talk. I think they're pretty sure that you'll run away."  
  
"And you know better than them?" he asks.  
  
"I think if you lock it all down, you could spend your whole life shut down. I think you might forget how to be you at all." Matt sounds so casual, so self-assured, like he's talking about the weather, like Adam's knuckles aren't turning white as they tightly grip the bottle. "And I think you're worth trying to break the locks down even if you get mad at me right now. Because you're you. There's no one else like you. And life would be pretty boring if you didn't exist because you locked yourself down."  
  
Adam's practically burning a hole through the wall with his eyes, and the beer is shaking in his hands, and Matt isn't afraid of silence, never has been, and Adam knows he'll sit there for an hour in a stalemate with him if that's what it takes. So Adam gets to his feet, wanders over to Bruce's collection of movies, plucks Pacific Rim from the shelf, and puts it in the DVD player. "It's been a while since we saw this."  
  
Matt hums in acknowledgment.  
  
Matt orders Chinese food for delivery on his phone and they watch silently, like they hadn't memorized the movie scene by scene years ago.  
  
~~  
  
By the time they've worked through the lo mein and the sesame chicken and the egg rolls, they're directly next to each other on the couch, watching the climactic scene begin to unfold.  
  
"Who do you think is drift compatible in the office?" Matt asks absently, working on his second bottle of beer while Adam opens his third.  
  
It's an old question they've asked through the years, one that changes and shifts depending on the present office dynamic. Adam considers it. "Bruce and James. Lawrence and Joel. You and Spoole."  
  
Silence. "What about you?"  
  
Adam shrugs. "I'm probably the washed-up loser who'll never pilot one again. Probably no one could stand to work with me even if I _could_ do it right."  
  
Longer silence. Things blow up on screen. People flee in hysteria. He hears Matt's audible intake of breath. "I think I'd put Spoole and Elyse together."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"And you and me."  
  
Adam nibbles on his bottom lip, suddenly overly aware of the heat of Matt's thigh next to his own, how they're almost touching on the couch. "I'd fucking get you killed, dude."  
  
"Nah." Matt takes another drink, then crosses his legs, their knees touching, an unbidden spark shooting through Adam's leg. "You know you're the one who pretty much holds us all together in the office, right?"  
  
Adam's hand is shaking again. He has to put the bottle down on his knee to hide it, focuses his attention on the cool ring of condensation that presses into his jeans rather than the pang in his chest. "I barely do anything. I don't riff, I-I don't joke, I just...I just play the games."  
  
"You're the glue, though. Just how it is. It'd never be the same if you were gone."  
  
Adam stares at the screen. Matt uncrosses his legs. Their legs press flush together, thigh to thigh, calf to calf, foot to foot. Adam takes a very long drink and nearly drains half the bottle in one gulp.  
  
~~  
  
The credits start rolling, but neither of them move even though there's trash to clean and bottles to dispose of and Christmas cheer to have. But what's Christmas cheer anyway? Adam can't remember the last time Christmas wasn't filled with fear or anxiety or self-loathing. Christmas cheer feels like something that he has to force, and he can't help but wonder if that's why he never quite felt the push to put up his Christmas tree or knick-knack decorations this year.  
  
"I'm a mess." Adam doesn't realize he said that out loud until he realizes that Matt's turned his head, that he's studying his profile. "I'm a fucking mess."  
  
Matt is silent.  
  
"You know, sometimes I, I don't even know why they try to make me come down for Christmas." His mind reminds them that he hasn't informed Matt who 'they' are, but his mind is behind and his mouth is spilling out exactly how he feared it would, fueled by just a taste too much of alcohol and a hint too much warmth from Matt's leg. "Or for anything. Am I the reminder that no one there fucked up as much as I did? Is that it? Like, do they want to parade me around so they can all feel good about the fact that they're not pieces of shit?"  
  
Adam waits a breath, expects for Matt to fill it with reassurance. He gets nothing.  
  
Adam doesn't realize he's tearing up until his eyes blur, until they burn. "I-I just, I was, we all fucking went through the shit with my dad together, and what, I was worth protecting then? But not now? What the fuck did I do wrong?" His voice cracks and he turns his head as far as he can away from Matt. "One day my brother will fucking get choked for me and the next I'm just the goddamn scapegoat, and the first time I fucking try to keep myself safe they try to drag me back down, and they scream at me and beat me down and tell me what I fucking deserve and-"  
  
"They're scared of what you're capable of."  
  
Adam barks a laugh and wipes roughly at his eyes. "What, shoveling shit?"  
  
"You have more visibility than any of them. A million people know who you are. A million people love you and admire you."  
  
"They admire the act."  
  
"They admire what you give them, and they wish they could know you better."  
  
"They'd be disappointed if they could."  
  
"No," Matt says simply. "No they wouldn't. No one ever is."  
  
Adam stares at the wall, his fist over his mouth, sniffling quietly. When he finally speaks again it's a whisper. "How much of a piece of shit do you have to be to separate yourself from your family?"  
  
"How much of a piece of shit does a family have to be to drive their son away?"  
  
Adam closes his eyes, squeezes them as tightly shut as he can.  
  
"If they can't treat you the way you deserve, then they don't deserve the pleasure of your company."  
  
"Maybe this is what I deserve," he barely manages to croak out.  
  
"No." Firm. Solid. Just like before. Just like Matt has always been. "That's never been what you deserve. Not ever."  
  
Something loosens in Adam's chest. It's the quiet confidence of Matt's words, the warm assurance, and he sucks in a slow, shaky breath. He's not...not ready to cry. Not ready to give them the pleasure of breaking him down. Doesn't think they deserve it. But everything begins to settle, even if just for a few minutes or hours. His thoughts grow still.  
  
He turns his head and meets Matt's eyes, sees the way his brow is knit in very clear concern. And Adam doesn't hesitate to lean in and kiss him.  
  
Matt inhales sharply, stiffening, but he doesn't pull away. He leans into the kiss immediately, draping an arm behind Adam along the couch, resting a hand on Adam's knee, and he squeezes when Adam hums and places a tentative hand on Matt's shoulder.  
  
It feels right, kissing Matt while they're bathed in the soft light of the Christmas tree, while the Pacific Rim credits are playing in the background, even while they still taste faintly of Chinese food. It feels like...like it maybe should have when they were in college together, when they were blind to the girls who were interested in them, when they were living together and worn so close together that they couldn't quite tell where one of them ended and the other began. It's simple. It's safe. The light smell of Matt's soap teases Adam's senses just like the taste of his tongue when Matt gently presses it against his lips.  
  
It's a balm on his aching heart, and it's everything he could want.  
  
Adam's hands press into Matt's firm waist, and when he tugs Matt moves immediately, crawling into his lap, squeezing his strong thighs around Adam's. He's so fucking fit. So good-looking. The mere realization of that is enough to make Adam's head spin, to send a thrum of electricity shooting through his body, and as Matt dips his head to kiss him deeper, his arms looping around Adam's neck, he just...he can't keep himself from pulling him as close as he can.  
  
Matt is so solid against him. He feels like a shield blocking Adam from hurt, and that's...that's the only thing he wants right now. He wants everything that Matt is. He wants to _drown_ in him.  
  
They kiss languidly on the couch for long minutes, finding the best angle for their necks, grabbing loose handfuls of each other's sweaters. They ignore when the Pacific Rim DVD menu begins repeating over and over again. They have to make up for lost time, Adam realizes. They don't have a minute to lose.  
  
It's Matt that rolls his hips forward first, and Adam gasps when he feels the beginnings of their erections press together, the little teasing shiver in his gut that sets off a feedback loop through his body. "Sorry," Matt murmurs, hands squeezing in Adam's shirt.  
  
"No, no," Adam's quick to say, "no, it's good, it's excellent."  
  
"Yeah?" Matt gives another roll, more deliberate, pressing and lingering and making Adam keen. "More?"  
  
"Matt-" Adam loses the rest of his sentence in a whimper when Matt kisses him again. It's heated now, a slick press of their lips together, wet and hot and addicting, and Adam can't help but shove his hands under Matt's sweater, feeling the roll of his muscles along his torso. Matt hums, breaks the kiss to pull his sweater off and drop it on the floor, and Adam gets greedy. He leans in and pulls Matt's neck down where he can reach it with his mouth. Lathing along his skin with his tongue draws a grunt from Matt's mouth, a little shiver down his body, and Adam sinks his nails into the muscles he can reach.  
  
"You just doing this because you need a distraction?" Matt asks softly, moving his hips like he's fucking him, like they're fucking each other, a seamless rhythm that he doesn't deviate from even when Adam bites his neck.  
  
"Nah," Adam's just as quick to say. "Doing it 'cuz I've wanted you for years."  
  
"Oh, thank fuck." The words are barely whispered as Matt guides Adam's mouth to his again and practically fucks his mouth with his tongue, quietly dominating all the shots. When Adam reaches for his belt Matt smacks his hand away, works at his pants himself, only breaking the kiss when he fishes his hard cock out, thick and flushes in his hand. "C'mon, get your dick out."  
  
Adam laughs breathily. He can't help himself, even as he unbuttons his jeans. "That what you want?"  
  
"Yeah." Matt bites his bottom lip, arching his back, looking incredible in the low light. "Wanna see how you get yourself off."  
  
"I'd rather get you off," Adam shoots right back even as he manages to wiggle his pants and boxers down just a touch, just enough to grab his cock and watch Matt's eyes fall on it hungrily.  
  
"You can do that tomorrow." Matt lifts his hand to lick his own palm, and Adam grabs it, sucking Matt's fingers into his mouth with a hum, watching Matt's eyelashes flutter. "Fuck, or maybe tonight. You drive me crazy, you know that?"  
  
Adam slicks Matt's fingers as much as he can, sucking them down deep, bobbing his head in a rhythm, watching Matt's eyes glaze over as Adam fucks his mouth with his fingers. By the time he pulls back Matt's fingers are dripping, and Adam can steer them down to his cock, can watch the way Matt gasps as he starts jerking himself off.  
  
It's a difficult angle, Matt's other hand on the back of the couch, him holding himself in a specific way, but they moan as their lips meet again, as they kiss sloppily while their hands move on their cocks. It feels so fucking innocent compared to what they could be getting up to, the two of them barely touching each other and just getting themselves off, and it's...it's fucking _perfect_ , that's what it is.  
  
Adam can feel himself getting close, breaks the kiss, and they hover just a few centimeters away from each other, gasping, eyes hooded as they drink each other in. "I-I'm so close, Matt, fuck-"  
  
"Yeah," he whispers back, then groans through a "Holy shit, Adam-"  
  
"I, I-I'm-"  
  
"Fuck-"  
  
Adam comes first, covering Matt's hand and his cock with his cum, and he just barely catches the expression on Matt's face, the way his eyes widen as he stares down between them right before he cries out and tips his head back, catching his lip between his teeth, as he comes all over Adam's sweater, and fuck, that's going to stain it so fucking bad and he doesn't have a thing to wear and there's no way in hell any of Matt's things will fit him comfortably, and he doesn't give a fucking shit because Matt is still in the middle of his orgasm when he leans down to draw Adam into a firm kiss, whimpering against his mouth.  
  
They're still breathing hard and in each other's space five minutes later, haven't said a word, are listening to the repeating Pacific Rim menu over and over again. "I feel better" is what Adam finally manages.  
  
Matt chuckles softly, nosing at his cheek. "Good."  
  
Silence. Adam clears his throat. "I...can I stay the night?"  
  
"Well, I think it's only polite," Matt says with a small smile. "I mean, you didn't bring a gift. I think that means you _are_ my Christmas gift."  
  
"Oh my God, that's so fucking gay."  
  
"It really is, isn't it?"  
  
"I love it."  
  
They chuckle together, pressed close on the couch, and Adam's still too boneless to worry about the cooling cum on their hands and clothes and chests, is too busy with making sure there isn't a breath of air between them.  
  
It takes time. They finally break apart. They clean their hands up, their bodies, the coffee table, and they've barely finished when Matt grabs Adam's hand, links their fingers together, and coaxes him into his bed. Adam feels self-conscious about the breadth of his shoulders, about how much space he takes up in the bed, but before he can shrink down or apologize Matt calmly rolls Adam only his side and spoons up behind him, pressing every inch of their skin together.  
  
~~  
  
When Adam wakes up on Christmas Day, he feels the sinking weight of his forgotten phone and the dozens upon dozens of disappointed messages that must be waiting on it. And then he feels the heavier weight of Matt tucked up behind him, holding him solid, the warmth of his measured breathing on Adam's bare back, and the other weight falls away, gets dropped into a pit where it can't bother him for now.  
  
It's not...things aren't perfect. They aren't fixed. But somehow knowing that he matters so deeply to one person is reassuring. It means that there are so many other people that he might matter that deeply to. That maybe the norm he's used to isn't what has to exist.  
  
So Adam wiggles back a little closer, is rewarded by a sleepy hum from Matt and a sloppy kiss between his shoulderblades, and as Adam drifts off into a lazy snooze he feels himself shrug off the coat of disappointment and shame that he's been wearing for years. It may not be off forever. But it's a damn good start.


End file.
